


Fast Car

by 230W49thSt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cashier Lance, Customer Keith, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Abuse/Dubious Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Miserable Lives, Much Hurt And Not Much Comfort Send Help, Songfic, nothing here is really graphic but jeez you get the idea and it makes me shudder, so please be careful and read the author's notes first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/230W49thSt/pseuds/230W49thSt
Summary: Lance works night shifts at a gas station, Keith is a customer who visits daily. They bond over their miserable lives.Songfic loosely inspired by"Fast Car"from Tracy Chapman and my desperate wish to write a fanfic with less than 50k words.





	Fast Car

**Author's Note:**

> **serious content warning:**  
>  This fic deals with an alcoholic, violent, abusive father and a (sexual/emotionally) abusive boyfriend. The tag says "implied sexual abuse" and "implied/referenced domestic violence" because there are no graphic scenes and I think that's what the original tag means.  
>  **HOWEVER:**  
>  \- Injuries caused by domestic violence will be part of the story.  
> \- There are scenes between Keith and his boyfriend that reference or imply "doubious" sexual consent in the past which is, in fact, sexual abuse because Keith starts to feel pressured to consent and doesn't believe he has a choice anymore; also non-consensual touching and, again, "dubious" kissing happens in this fic. I fucking hate the word "dubious" because as soon as you have any doubt about consent there's simply no consent.
> 
> Stay safe, everyone. Don't let yourself pressure in doing anything you don't want to do and if you feel yourself in a helpless position like this, please, reach out to a friend or someone else you can trust, there's no shame in that.
> 
> I kinda feel weird to say "enjoy the fic" at this point so...here's the fic.

## Fast Car

A gas station at night has a unique atmosphere. From far away it appears as an illuminated island in a dark sea pretending to be a safe haven for those who are lost. The facade crumbles when the cold and sterile light comes closer. There is no warmth on this island in November or any other month. It’s an iceberg made not for staying but for leaving, the lights a trap to catch lonely souls only to spit them out a few minutes later – if they’re lucky and have money along with a tank full of gas and a bitter coffee.

The bright blue neon light on the canopy gets reflected by the wet asphalt and a shiver runs down Lance’s back when he parks his car behind the building. The car heater hasn’t been working for months but the cold is endurable for the short drive from home to work and back. Except for his fingers. He rubs his hands and blows some hot breath into them. Gloves, he should get some gloves. And a better car. And preferably a better job.

And a better life.

It’s 8:55 pm when Lance heads inside the gas station shop to begin his 9 to 6 shift. The work is routine by now. He changes into his work uniform, a blue polo shirt with a name tag, dark trousers, and black shoes, and glances at his worksheet with all the tasks he has to do until his shift ends. He knows the tasks by heart but changes the order every day so it doesn’t get too boring.

Shift change is smooth and soon he’s alone behind the counter. Cashing, small-talk, no the lottery machine is off for the night yes not just tonight but every night yes sir no I’m afraid I can’t do this, smiling, listening to rants about high gas prices and hoping the group of loud teenagers wouldn’t cause him any trouble. Although it’s only Wednesday the first few hours of his shift are busier than usual and he finds himself hanging behind the schedule he’s prepared in his head. After midnight it gets quieter.

Lance is in the middle of cleaning parts of the coffee, cappuccino, and soda fountain machines in the sink in the back of the store when he hears a voice.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Normally the ring of the doorbell tells him when a customer has entered the store but he must have missed it over the sound of running water and his own humming. Cleaning has something soothing to him.

“Coming,” he shouts and hurries behind the counter. “Sorry, I was in the back.”

The guy shrugs noncommittally and hands him a can with iced coffee double shot espresso from the fridge.

Lance scans it and looks back at him. The first thing he notices is his outfit. The guy’s wearing a black suit, white shirt, black tie and all which isn’t strange per se but it’s too late for a 9 to 5 person’s drive home and too early for the weirdos to come out and he doesn’t actually look weird. He’s probably the same age as Lance, something between 18 and 20. And his black hair is...is that mullet? Okay, scratch that, that officially makes him a weirdo. Working in a night shift brings Lance in contact with a lot of “different” people and usually, he couldn’t care less if someone wears a ball gown, a onesie or a mix of both. But with the guy’s dark purple eyes staring at him Lance finds himself wondering about his story. Who even has purple shaded eyes? Also, he was really good looking now come to think of –

“Can I pay?” Purple Eyes asks and tilts his head in question.

Lance startles slightly and lowers his gaze. He feels something hot creeping up into his cheeks when he realizes he stared at him. Stupid eyes.

“Um, sure. That’d be all? The pretzels are today's offer, two for one,” he says like management expects him to say during every customer interaction and gestures to the bags with the baked goods on the counter next to him.

Stupid Eyes gives him a tired look.

“Just the coffee.”

Lance nods and hits a few buttons on the cash register. “1,70, please. Cash or card?”

The guy answers his question by handing him a bill and some coins.

“Thanks.” Lance presses his lips together, anxious not to stare again. The guy interests him, there is something intriguing about him, and if they weren’t in the gas station Lance would have made a bold move. But showing interest or flirting with customers is something he renounced to do in the first week of his job. The helpless position of not being able to leave, especially at night, has put him in some unpleasant situation already. Not threatening, but uncomfortable to say the least. A few seconds later the guy clears his throat.

“Hm?” Lance asks, his competence as an eloquent cashier reaching its peak.

“The coffee? Can I have it or do you want to hold it a little while longer?”

“Oh, sure, of course,” he stammers and quickly hands him the can. “Sorry, I’m a bit...never mind. Goodbye! Have a nice day – night!”

Purple Eyes squints at him and Lance almost heaves a sigh of relief when he turns around to leave but then he stops and --

“Um, you’ll get the hang of it, eventually,” the guy says with an almost sympathetic look on his face.

“Of what?” Lance asks back. The guy shrugs and vaguely points at the counter and cash register.

“The job. It sucks when they don’t work you in properly.” Lance isn’t sure if he mocks him but judging by the look on Purple Eyes’ face he settles for earnestness.

“Oh.” Now, this is awkward. “I’m not...I mean. Yeah. I guess.” He decides to roll with this story to cover his embarrassment. He hasn’t seen this guy before so what are the odds that he will have to see him ever again? He is probably just passing by. Also, it’s still better than admitting he’s been working at this gas station for the last two years (which is embarrassing on its own) and not being able to act like a normal human being when a customer with _purple eyes_ in a _suit_ appears and--

“Good luck then, for the rest of your shift,” the stranger calls on his way out and of course the only reply Lance can think of is a strangled “yeah, you too!” that hopefully got somewhat lost by the ringing bell. He flops himself down on the stool and presses some buttons that switch the monitor on the ceiling to the pictures the outdoor security cameras are transmitting. Of course, he drives a nice car, Lance sighs before he covers his eyes with his hand.

~~

Keith glances at the clock in the display behind the steering wheel. It’s 4 am and his eyelids almost drop. His car is the safest place in his life and his body and mind take notice of it by offering him a chance to rest. But a gas station in the middle of the night is neither the right time nor the right place for a nap, no matter how much he needs it. He opens the door a tiny crack but lingers for a moment. The cold of the night slowly creeps into the warmth of his car and makes him shiver. He forces himself outside.

His body trembles from coldness and weariness as he is waiting for the gas to fill up the tank. The jacket of his suit does nothing in keeping him warm but he is too stubborn to get his winter jacket out of the trunk. An exasperated sigh escapes him when the cash machine of the gas pump doesn’t accept his credit card.

 _Please see cashier_ , the display reads.

He crosses his arms, presses them against his chest and jogs into the convenience store. The sliding door opens with a little ring and a pleasant warmth greets him. His body relaxes immediately and he feels his cheeks burning from the sudden change of temperature. His eyes wander to the register: no one there. He huffs. _That figures._

His bed is on the other side of town and though it’s not a long ride he might as well grab a cup of hot coffee to keep him awake and warm. The new job isn’t an improvement on the salary but working as a security guard in the Gentleman’s Club outside town beats being a bouncer in a club his boyfriend visits regularly.

The coffee machine offers different kinds of caffeinated hot beverages with various flavors but all he ever wants is a simple black filter coffee. He likes to keep his standards low. This way it’s easier to satisfy them. It starts with coffee and ends with his relationship and his future. When he has finally found the right button and pressed it, the machine starts beeping.

_Empty._

“You gotta be kidding me,” Keith mumbles and runs his fingers through his hair. For a hot second he thinks about leaving, just bolting through the door, getting into his car and flooring the gas pedal for the next hour until he is somewhere else.

 _Someone_ else.

The persisting beeping has drawn attention to it, finally. Keith hears someone cursing and making their way back to the sales area.

“Sorry, I was in the back,” the approaching voice says and a second later the matching body appears in the doorway.

Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes. Not that newbie again. His short brown hair is weirdly messed up and makes Keith wonder what the hell he’s done in the back. The guy’s blue eyes squint against the light in the store and he quickly straightens his rumpled shirt. Has he been sleeping?

“No problem,” Keith says after a moment of hesitation. “You’re out of coffee.”

“Oh, actually, I just made a new batch. Do you want some?”

Keith gives him a long glare.

“Alright,” the newbie says. He points his fingers at Keith and winks but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to pull it off. “You want some or you wouldn’t have asked, I get it. Give me a sec.”

A few minutes later Keith has paid for his coffee and the gas in almost complete silence.

“Bye,” the cashier says, leans his elbows on the counter and goes in for a weak smile, “have a nice night slash morning.” He looks exactly how Keith feels. Tired. Exhausted. Sick of having to be friendly all the goddamn time. No one should be forced to be friendly at 4 am.

“Um, sorry about,” Keith begins and motions in the direction of the coffee machine, “being kind of a jerk.”

The cashier’s smile gets more sincere and he pushes himself up again, his fingers restlessly running over the surface of the counter.

“Don’t sweat on it, man. We all get cranky when we don’t get our morning coffee.”

Keith nods, thankful that he has accepted his half-assed apology.

“So I see you get along better now? Did you get more training or did you have to pick it up on your own?” He shoots a glance at the guy’s name tag. “Lance?”

For a second the cashier blinks in confusion and Keith has to bit his lips to suppress a laugh.

“Oh,” the cashier named Lance says and fiddles on his name tag. “Yeah, that’s my name. You know actually,” he says and leans back on the counter, “I’m not new here. I just had a bad day last week, that’s all. I’m pretty good at my job, as you can see. Take a sip from that coffee. I guarantee full enjoyment!”

“I could use some enjoyment,” Keith says flatly.

“At work?”

“I’m on my way home, actually, off to bed.”

“Well, I can’t really guarantee enjoyment in your bed, can I?”

Keith feels a strange pull in his stomach when the cashier looks right into his eyes and smiles at him rather smugly. For a moment he gets lost in not only his blue eyes but also his face and its expression, in his body language, more relaxed than expectant, flirty and sincere, not threatening or demanding but patiently. It’s been a long time since someone has looked at Keith like that.

“Um, no, you can’t,” he says and hopes his face wouldn’t betray him of his inner turmoil, “I think my boyfriend would want to have a say in it.”

There’s a short pause before Lance replies.

“Good for him. _You_!” Lance’s eyes widen. “I mean, good for _you_!”

Only when Lance begins to backpedal Keith notices that his mouth has opened slightly and he was staring at the awkward bundle the cashier has become under his gaze.

“Anyway. Have a good sleep! Or whatever you do! Drive safe! Enjoy the coffee!”

“Right.” Keith swallows and averts his eyes from him. “Thank you. Um. Goodbye...Lance.” He doesn’t feel tired anymore, his body is on high alert. His heart beats fast, both from confusion and excitement, and there was a pleasant tingle in his cheeks he can't quite place. The sliding door opens and--

“Wait!”

Keith turns rapidly around, the coffee almost spilling over by this sudden movement.

“Yes?” he asks, an undefined expectation whirling in his body.

“What’s your name?” Lance asks. “You know mine, so it’s only fair if I know yours.”

"That’s not how it works,” Keith answers. But that’s also when he realizes that the pleasant tingle in his cheeks is indeed a smile that has spread on his face. “But it’s Keith,” he says quickly. “My name’s Keith.”

Lance smiles back and salutes with two fingers next to his temple.

“Good to meet you, Keith.”

~~

It’s 7 am when Lance sneaks inside his own house. As quiet as possible he puts away the groceries he’s bought on his way home, mostly a lot of microwave dishes and two six-packs of beer. Maybe it is wishful thinking but the brand doesn’t seem to make his father that aggressive when he is drinking so he makes sure it’s always in stock.

There’s a snore coming from the living room but Lance doesn’t look inside when he heads upstairs. His father is alive and that’s all the information he needs for his next run to the supermarket. He skips the step that always creaks like the expert he is and feels only relieved when he’s in his room with his door locked. Showering isn’t an option when his father is still asleep; the later he wakes up the better for everyone. Meanwhile, he drops down on his bed, wolfs down some old leftover baked goods that he was supposed to throw away after his shift and catches up with his favorite TV show on his phone, of course using headphones. He hasn’t touched his sketchbook in months, too drained to follow the hobby that once has meant the world to him.

Lance wakes up to the sound of someone walking in the downstairs room. He is a light sleeper. For reasons. It’s only noon but it’s also the time when his father is the least drunk in 24 hours so he heads down to help him make lunch. They don’t talk much. Lance cleans the kitchen and the bathroom, takes out the trash and empty bottles in the living room before he takes the shower he desperately needs.

For the rest of the afternoon, he goes back to bed. This time he puts a chair in front of the locked door and latches it to the handle to block it from getting pushed down. Lance knows that it’s not more secure than locking the door and that someone in rage is able to kick in the paper-thin door but it’s a psychological trick to make him feel safer. His father has started drinking again, well, he never really stops but lunch is always the start of another round, so a few more precautions are necessary to keep Lance’s anxiety in check before he’s able to fall asleep again.

At 8:00 pm he heads down and eats a lukewarm microwaved lasagna alone in the kitchen. His head hurts and he hasn’t slept well but what else is new. Maybe he will take another short nap in the back of the gas station later. It’s absolutely reckless and most certainly will get him fired if someone finds out about this habit but he trusts his inner alarm system to wake him as soon as the bell rings. Most of the time at least. Before he leaves he checks in with his father in the living room. Empty and full bottles of the beer Lance has bought are in front of him on the coffee table.

“Hey Dad,” Lance says and dares to sit down next to him on the couch. His father gives him a side glance to acknowledge his existence, then he starts rambling about some politician on TV as if they are continuing an old conversation. Maybe they are. Lance doesn’t know what he’s talking about but mumbles affirmatively from time to time when he feels his father’s eyes on him.

“I’m off to work,” he says after a while.

“Bring the good beer next time. This tastes like piss.” His father raises the bottle close to Lance’s face and Lance flinches. “I deserve better,” he mutters, “I worked all my life and this is how I get treated.”

“I get a new six-pack of the good one tomorrow,” Lance lies. Even if he wanted to, which isn’t the case, they couldn’t afford anything else than the basics. Every left cent he finds in his pocket by the end of the week goes straight into a little case in his wardrobe, high up and in the back where the drunk old man isn’t able to find it. He doesn’t know what he’s saving for. Maybe to pay a security deposit for a small apartment. Maybe to buy a new car if his father crashes this one as well. Maybe to pay a funeral.

They won’t be able to keep the house much longer anyway. It’s been two years since his mother ran out, sick of her drinking and abusive husband, and Lance couldn’t blame her for doing it. But that she didn't take him with her is something he will never forgive her. Lance had to quit school and started working with 16 to support his father, to make sure there is food (and beer) in the house, to pay the bills and keep the lights on. To keep himself alive.

His father opens a new bottle and Lance takes it as a sign to leave. He can’t bear it to stay longer than a few minutes with him in the same room, not in this condition. His aggression gets stronger the later the night and hits its peak around 10 pm. It’s not a coincidence that Lance prefers the night shifts. The good thing with working the same job in two years is that he ranks out every other colleague or part-time-working student and has more influence on the shift schedule than the others. He’s not irreplaceable, no one is, but he knows all the little tricks to keep the place running and his boss is aware of it. Getting his favorite shifts is the only reward he’s gotten over the last years but he doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t have to be home when his father starts blaming his only son for every bad thing that has ever happened to him.

His mind drifts to Purple Eyes who comes in almost every night now. If it isn’t too busy they make some small talk about the weather or another random topic. Sometimes Lance tries to convince him to try a flavored coffee but he always refuses. _Keith_. He is the same age as him but looks as if he is the complete opposite of him. A fancy suit, a fast car, probably a well-paid job, maybe a nice apartment. A boyfriend, he adds and wrinkles his nose. Lance has stopped feeling out if Keith is interested in him as soon as he had made it clear that he isn’t available. Still, the dark-haired guy is easy on the eyes and nobody could blame him for some daydreaming.

People like Keith have their lives under control and what about him, Lance? There's no purpose in his life, he is just a tool to keep his father alive.

~~

Keith stands in front of his boyfriend’s door in the ugly apartment complex he lives in. He doesn’t know if someone has ever cleaned the floor in the hallway in the last few months he’s lived here but at least it matches how he feels about his life. The voices behind the door make him hesitate. He has hoped to find James alone for once but then again he is glad that he has company. Keith takes a deep breath and unlocks the door.

“Hey babe,” his boyfriend shouts across the room, his arm casually lying around another guy’s shoulders as he looks at him.

“You must be Keith,” the other guy says and shamelessly checks him out, scanning him from head to toe. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Ethan.” He smirks. “Nice suit.”

“eBay,” Keith replies and heads for the bathroom without bothering to take off his shoes. He knows what this is about and he really isn’t in the mood, hasn’t been for quite a while and he’s angry that his boyfriend keeps trying anyway.

“Keith, wait,” James appeases him with a calm voice and the part in Keith's brain with the low expectations appreciates James' effort of actually walking up to him. “We want to hit the clubs but I thought we wait for you. Why don’t you join us? Just for a few hours.” He puts his hand on Keith’s narrow waist and steps closer. The smell of alcohol and sex lingers in his breath and on his skin. Keith turns his face away when he tries to kiss him.

“Oh come on,” James pouts. He holds Keith’s chin firmly with his strong hand and manages to press their lips together. “You’re still good with the bouncers at The Inferno, right?”

Keith shakes off James’ hand and leans back. “I'm gonna stay in tonight.”

“Babe, of course, we can stay at home, alright?”

Keith’s eyes dart to Ethan who is eyeing them from the couch.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” James coos, his fingers drawing circles on Keith’s hips, “we do whatever you want, just pretend he isn’t here. You won’t even notice him. Unless you want to.”

There was a time when Keith had agreed to James’ _proposals_ , at first because he thought he wanted it too, then to keep him close. This time is long gone but he doesn’t know what to do. Months ago he’s moved into this bleak town to be with James, only four months into their relationship, and then everything turned to shit. In rare moments of clarity, a voice in his head begs him to pack his stuff and leave. But he doesn’t have enough money to afford an apartment, much less the necessary security deposit, and he wouldn't know where to go anyway. And now he's stuck in this place with a man who once loved him. Maybe he still does.

James studies his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and his voice sounds sincere. The sudden caring and worried side of his boyfriend makes everything so difficult. There had been a reason why Keith has fallen in love with him and sometimes he still sees it in his brown eyes.

“Nothing, just a long day. I’m going to bed.”

James raises his eyebrows in question and moves in closer, his hands both softly and greedily cradling Keith’s face, a finger brushing over his lips.

“To sleep,” Keith adds and puts his hands on James’ chest to push him away. Not hard enough to make him stumble or angry but firmly enough to mark his decision final. “Ask for Mitch at the Inferno. Tell him I said hi and he will let you in.” He knows James has to let out some _steam_  from time to time and it’s better for everyone if he isn’t the one responsible to help him.

Keith is still in the shower when he hears the two men leaving the small apartment. He can’t remember the last time James had looked at him without wanting something from him, be it his car, his money, his love or his body. For himself and others.

In his job he has to be tough, sometimes even has to get rough if he’s not able to deescalate a situation. But with James, he feels helpless, unable to get away from his firm grip, making excuses for the nature of their relationship and his boyfriend's behavior. But James still loves him, Keith tells himself. He says so every time Keith had been _good_ to him.

The spikes on the chain around his neck sting deeper the more he struggles. He let the hot water run over his body, pretending it burns away the skin of a person he doesn’t want to be anymore.

~~

“I work the road further down, next to the traffic circle.”

Lance frowns. “At McDonald's?” Keith doesn’t grimace albeit his answer comes hesitantly.

“Next to it. I work at Little Darlings.”

“You’re a stripper!” Lance blurts out and slams his palms on the counter. He appears to be someone who isn't shy to display his emotions and feelings and Keith is almost amused about it but he scoffs anyway.

“I’m a security guard.” He raises his arms to his hips and looks pointedly at the sleeves of his black jacket. “Hence the suit.”

“You sure?”

Keith sighs. He’s heard this argument many times before. “I know I’m not buff or have arms as big as a cow but I could easily throw you across the store.”

“Yeah, I believe that. That’s not what I meant though,” Lance swallows. “You look as if you could pull it off.”

Keith stares at him incredulously, waiting for the joke to settle in but the guy doesn't fold under his gaze but looks right back with his lips pressed together and his eyebrows raised in an almost flirtatious and mildly suggestive way.

“Oh. Well, I don’t _strip_ ,” Keith finally says.

“Come on,” Lance pushes and leans his elbows on the counter, his chin resting on his folded fingers as if they're sharing secrets, “don’t tell me your boyfriend has never seen your inner stripper routine?”

The mention of James causes Keith to tense up. The connection to him stripping in front of him even more.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Please don’t throw me across the store, it’s not easy to wipe the blood off the floor.”

Keith bites his lip. The brown-haired young man must have picked up on his changed mood and posture very quickly. Although he is standing behind the counter he has taken a step back to give him more room.

“No, it’s just...complicated,” Keith admits.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Keith laughs bitterly. “Paradise,” he repeats and shakes his head. “That’s not the word I’d use.”

Lance looks at him with patience and a part of Keith wants to keep talking. But Lance isn’t his friend, he’s a cashier he happens to see almost every day for less than ten minutes in the middle of the night. He means nothing to him. And still, this gas station has become some sort of safe place to Keith, a place for some rest between his exhausting job and the apartment with a boyfriend who consistently grows more unsatisfied with him and has begun to show it.

“Um, I better go.”

“Is it worth though?”

Keith cocks his head.

“What do you mean?”

“If it’s not paradise, is it still worth it?”

“What?”

“Everything.” He makes a slow hand gesture at himself, the shop and Keith. “Living like this. Enduring all this fucked up shit.”

Keith averts his gaze for a moment to sort his thoughts. This topic pinpoints his everyday struggle of the last months and it scares him. And this night shift cashier of all people is the one who puts the spotlight on it. When he looks back up he sees something familiar in Lance's eyes, something he sees when he looks at himself in the mirror.

“I don’t know, Lance,” he answers truthfully. “But I don’t think I have another choice either way.”

“I thought so, too. But that can’t be it, can it? There has to be another way.” There is something urging in his voice and Keith wants to agree just to pretend he believes it as well but he can’t.

“Tell me about it when you have found it,” he says instead.

The bell rings and the sliding door opens. A group of teenagers enters the shop, talking loudly and discussing booze.

Lance nods, his eyes still fixed on Keith. Wordlessly they say _see you later_.

~~

“Alright, I have to admit your coffee is the best.”

Lance stops mopping the floor in front of the ice cream fridge. He has heard the bell but hadn’t identified the customer entering as Keith because that person was definitely not wearing a suit.

He turns around. Keith smiles broadly, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other one waving at him almost shyly. His outfit is the most casual Lance has seen on him so far: a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie that’s a bit too big for him. His hands almost vanish in the sleeves and Lance’s heart skips a beat at how endearing that is. A huge maroon-colored scarf is sloppily wrapped around his neck and all Lance could think of is how soft he looks.

“It took you all those weeks to believe me?” he teases.

“A week without your coffee actually made me believe there’s something good in this world after all.” Keith stopped himself. “Okay, that sounded rather bleak.”

“Aww, stop, you’re making me blush,” Lance says and fans himself with his hand. “I always get weak knees when someone praises my coffee.” He makes a joke of supporting himself on the mop, his legs giving way, too weak to carry him any longer.

“Ah damn, boosting your ego wasn’t on my to-do list,” Keith grins.

“Okay, then what’s on it?” He replaces the mop and bucket with a yellow sign that warns against the wet floor and walks up behind the counter.

“Are you alright?” Keith asks and points with the hand holding the coffee towards his hip. “You look like you’re in pain.”

Lance makes a grimace and shrugs. He’s been limping for a few days now and doesn't want to make a big deal about it.

“It’s nothing,” he says but sits down behind the counter – something he rarely does when Keith is around. “I fell down the stairs at home.” If you squint really hard it isn’t even a lie.

“Oh, sorry to hear that, is that why you haven’t been here last week?”

“No, it wasn’t that bad. I switched shifts with another colleague, he had some urgent appointments. I was working the day-time-shift.”

“And you don’t like those?” Keith asks when he sees the pained expression on Lance’s face.

“They don't exactly fit my rhythm. I’m more of a night owl. But don’t be nervous, it was only one week. I can assure you that you will get your precious coffee as regular as you’re used to.”

“Thanks, I was so anxious, I already starting dreaming about you holding a pot freshly brewed coffee always slightly out of reach. A nightmare, truly.”

“Alright, that's enough!” Lance exclaims in laughter and playfully slams his palms on the counter. “First you praise my coffee, then you dream about me? That coffee you’re drinking is on me. You’re spoiling me and I can’t handle that." He rests his folded lower arms on the counter and lets his tilted head fall down on them. "Congratulations," he says weakly, "you just broke me.” He exaggerates on purpose to give himself a reason to be dramatic because Keith huddled in his comfy clothes does questionable things to his heart that desperately tries to catch up with his emotions by tripping over itself. Suit-wearing Keith is hot, that’s for sure. Cuddly Keith fills places in his heart he didn’t know had been empty and he can't stop looking at him. And he can't remember the last time someone has made him laugh like that.

Keith chuckles at Lance's dramatic reaction and his eyes become thin from all the happiness in his face. Although Lance is smiling as well, he eyes him carefully. Keith appears to be different, more relaxed, open and chatty almost. And more importantly: he doesn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he clutches the paper cup with both of his hands and keeps standing in front of the counter.

“Thanks,” he says and grins into his coffee.

As much as Lance wants to stay in this happy moment longer, he also has questions. He glances at the clock next to the cash register. 11 pm.

“So now that we’ve established that I am the God of coffee, why are you here already? Is it casual Friday at work?”

Keith’s eyes flicker up to him and he scratches his temple.

“Actually it’s my day off.”

Lance forces himself up from the chair to have a better look at Purple Eyes.

“So you thought you just grab a cup of coffee at your favorite gas station without knowing if I was here to provide said coffee?”

“Pretty much.”

Lance whistles in approval. “Adventurous, I see. I learn a lot about you.”

Keith rolls his eyes but it is obvious that he enjoys their talk as much as Lance does. The cashier decides to push a bit further.

“So. You here. On your day off. You didn’t have any other plans on a Friday night?” He lets the question linger between them, giving Keith the chance to answer whichever way he prefers.

“My boyfriend’s out of town,” he says. Lance nods politely although he is surprised at how deliberately Keith provided that piece of information. “And I was bored. And now I’m here. With free coffee.” He holds up the cup and toasts in Lance’s direction.

“But you’re stuck with me instead.”

“Ah, you’re not too bad,” he says nonchalantly and takes a sip. “For a cashier.”

Lance presses his lips together when he catches Keith’s purple eyes. They are flirting, aren't they? Is Keith aware of that? He has to be. The sparkle in his eyes doesn’t say _coffee break_ , it establishes something else but Lance can't tell yet where they're heading to.

“You’re a pretty decent customer yourself.”

Keith fakes a pout. “That’s all that I am to you? A customer? I thought we had bonded!”

“Bonded? Over what?”

“Our miserable lives?”

Lance holds his breath, the pain in his hip suddenly burning stronger.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “true. Did you find an answer yet? If there's another way?”

“I thought that was your job.”

Lance’s face becomes somber.

“By now I believe I’m stuck here as much as you are.”

Although the mood changes rapidly, it isn’t awkward. They share a few looks, some weak smiles in an attempt to provide encouragement despite the hopelessness they both feel.

“Your shift ends at 6, correct?” Keith suddenly asks and breaks the silence. Lance nods. “Do you have two hours to spare?”

“You mean after my shift?”

“Yes.”

Lance shuffles his feet and hides his nervously fumbling fingers behind the counter. “Sure.”

“Cool.” Keith mimics Lance’s two-finger-salute. “See you in a bit.”

~~

The first time Keith rides full speed over the bump in the road Lance lets out a loud screech. Later he urges Keith to drive even faster. For the moment the car is in the air their hearts float in their chests, a fluttering feeling spreads inside their stomachs and they both hold their breaths. When the four wheels of the car are firmly back on the ground they both laugh.

Lance turns up the volume of the music and leans back in his seat. Although it’s cold outside in the early morning hours, he rolls down the window. Keith scowls when the cold rushes in but Lance tells him that he hasn’t lived until he has waved his hand through the air like a dolphin.

Keith, however, teaches him how to scream. Although Lance has a quick tongue he is unusually shy when it comes to open his mouth and just yell at nothing and everything in the safe space the driving car provides them. After some nervous giggles Lance takes a deep breath and then they’re both screaming, drowning out the already loud music with their voices until they’re exhausted and relieved.

Driving around after Lance’s shift for an hour or two becomes an irregular thing they do, depending on Keith’s schedule and both of their energy levels. Usually, Lance heavily relies on the sleep he gets in the morning hours but after a while, he notices that his sleep in the afternoon becomes deeper, more relaxing.

On days when he sees Keith’s car parked next to his own his heart jumps in his chest. Most times Keith already leans against the wall next to the backdoor and waits for him to sneak out two cups of coffee. They have breakfast in form of the leftover baked goods Keith declines to buy every time Lance advertizes them but that taste remarkably good when they’re free and eaten in the cozy warmth inside the car Lance has learned to love.

Before they pull on the street Keith asks Lance “left or right” and depending on his answer Keith thinks of a route featuring things Lance might like to see. Being asked why he knows the streets around their town so well when he’s only been here for a few months, Keith tells him that driving around calms him when he’s upset. He seems to know the streets better than Lance who has grown up in this part of the state but Lance slugs down the comment about the obvious connection to his stress level.

The first few times they spent together in the car their talk mostly revolves around their work and the occasional exchange about favorite TV shows or movies they’d grown up with. Both of them are eager to find things they have in common besides living a life they despise. It proves to be rather difficult with Lance not being a vivid consumer of 80s action television series and Keith lacking the knowledge of comic universes and common pop-cultural memes. But despite their different interests, their bond grows stronger, or maybe for the very reason of it. It’s not their hobbies that brings them together but the mutual feeling of being stuck in their lives and finding joy in each other's company. 

Keith tells him little about himself. He mentions his boyfriend by name, James, and that he’s living with him for a few months now, having left behind...nothing really. He doesn’t seem to have a family and if he has, he’s so alienated from them that they aren’t worth mentioning. Lance has the feeling that the situation between Keith and James has got worse in the last few weeks but he doesn’t know how to broach the topic without Keith becoming defensive and shutting him out for the rest of their ride so he drops it.

He gives Keith a short summary of his own life: there's the runaway mother, the unemployed father and the bills he has to pay, deliberately leaving out the beer he has to buy every day to keep his father’s mood up.

There is nothing romantic between them, no touches, no hand-holding or stolen kisses. With Keith being in a relationship he almost desperately clings to Lance has forced his feelings to stay platonic and platonic only. He still finds his stomach fluttering when he glances at Keith, bump or no bump in the street, but having the first constant friend in the last two years beats a one-night-stand he might regret later.

Being with Keith is simply exhilarating, the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, and he craves more.

~~

Their relationship changes when Keith takes Lance up the hill that lies half an hour outside of town. It’s a place he visits when he needs some comfort, he tells him. It belongs to an old abandoned ranch next to the road and Keith doesn’t hesitate when he opens the rusty gate. There aren’t many trees to hide their trespassing and Lance freaks out only a little when Keith steers the car up the narrow path. The top of the hill is covered with bushes and relief floods Lance’s body. No one would be able to see them from down the street.

He understands Keith’s love for this place when Keith tells him to get out of the car and they both sit down next to each other in the large open trunk, their legs dangling down. Facing that direction in the early morning presents them with a magnificent view over the next big city near the horizon. The big city lights twinkle through the morning fog. Lance gets it why Keith comes here to find comfort and maybe even hope. There is a world outside this town, far away and filled with light.

“Wow,” Lance whispers and shivers despite wearing his jacket. It’s still half an hour until sunrise but he can already see the first rays of sunlight making their way up from behind the horizon to touch the far away sky.

Keith gets something from the glove box and sits down beside him.

“I got a flask? I’m not sure what’s in it, to be honest.” He takes a sniff. “Maybe rum?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Lance says and shakes his head. “I don’t drink.”

“Yeah no, usually I--”

“I mean _never_.” Lance interrupts him sharply. “Not occasionally and not on special events.”

“Oh, alright,” Keith says. “I respect that.” Lance nods, brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them. The remaining pain in his hip makes him whimper but he keeps his arms wrapped around his knees. He feels Keith’s eyes on him but he doesn’t say anything.

They sit in silence and wait for the sun to get up. The colorful light gets reflected by the distant city's skyscrapers. When the sun has fully emerged from behind the horizon, Keith gently touches Lance's shoulder. Keith drives them back to the gas station, the songs and talks of a random radio station filling the space between them. Lance doesn’t know what to say, feeling he has ruined their trip with his brooding. Before he leaves the car, Keith holds him back.

“Sorry,” he says and Lance wants to tell him that he’s not the one who has to apologize.

“I’m sorry, too,” he replies. They look at each other, painfully aware that they are unable to glue together the broken pieces they see in each other’s eyes. “The hill was nice though. Maybe we can do that again some time.”

Keith smiles softly and Lance doesn’t try to linger too long before he changes into his own car.

~~

The next time they are on the hill and sitting in the trunk they have hot coffee and a blanket. Lance didn’t stop giggling until they were on the street before he revealed that he had stolen a whole pot this time, hidden in his jacket  which now was drained with coffee stains. Their laughter gets out of control when Keith asks him for cups and Lance gasps because he has forgotten them. They manage though.

The sun has already left its hiding place behind the horizon but neither of them makes the first move to leave. Lance skids closer to him and tries to wrap half his blanket around Keith’s shoulders.

“Hey man,” Keith says defensively and immediately scoots away from him like a spooked animal. He hates himself for pushing Lance away, something he isn't even able to do with James. Lance looks surprised but his face softens within seconds, realizing what Keith was thinking.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression,” he quickly says and holds up his hand in a reassuring manner. “This is just good old blanket-sharing. No homo,” he adds. “My intentions at least.”

Keith relaxes and lets out a chuckle.

“Alright.” He needs a moment to overcome some hesitation but then shuffles closer to Lance who cautiously wraps the blanket around both of their backs. Their thighs and shoulders touch and Keith feels the warmth of his body next to his.

“Can I put my arm around you? Would that be-- alright with you?” Lance asks quietly.

Keith looks at him and wrinkles his brows.

“Are you trying to hide your gay in plain sight?”

Lance exhales audibly and lets his head fall on his chest, a bit more dramatically than necessary but that’s just how Lance is.

“You got me there.” Keith pffts in disapproval. “Sorry,” Lance says. “I don’t deserve the blanket. You take it. Just rip it from my cold dead body.”

“Compromise?”

Lance looks up curiously. Keith raises his arm slightly. Eagerly he accepts this offer and tucks his arm into Keith's. He inadvertently pulls Keith closer to him once their arms are locked but neither of them minds.

“That’s a great compromise but I gotta say something.”

“What?”

Lance waits until Keith looks at him and then wiggles his arm.

“That’s a bit gay.” Keith bites his lip, his eyes unfalteringly directed at Lance.

“You got me there,” he admits and without further ado takes Lance’s hand.

A grin appears on Lance’s face when they intertwine their fingers. Their faces are close and Keith briefly wonders if he wants to kiss Lance. Or if he wants to get kissed by him. The thought is both alarming and exciting and he finds himself frozen, lost in his indecision. A scary place. Lance seems to notice the same strong tension building up between them because a few seconds later he winks at him with both eyes and rests his head on Keith’s shoulder, breaking their intense eye contact.

Keith hopes Lance didn't notice the amount of air he has exhaled in both relief and regret. But feeling the now familiar boy next to him in this relaxed pose soothes him so much more and he doesn’t want it any other way.

Not today anyway.

~~

Lance has gotten back to drawing. He hasn’t felt like it for months and now he’s sitting at the counter, drawing circles and other shapes in his sketchbook, getting a feeling again for the pencil in his hands.

It’s a quiet night and Lance tries not to think about the high school he’s never graduated from, the college he will never attend and the dream of becoming a comic artist he has given up a long time ago. By now he knows Keith’s schedule as well as his own and he doesn’t expect him to make another appearance on his day off.

He barely looks up when the door slides open and the bell announces customers. Two guys his age enter the store talking loudly, obviously already intoxicated, making a beeline for the chips in the snack section. He tries to ignore their drunk talk and focuses on his drawing until--

“What flavor does Keith want?”

Lance looks up.

The one with the one-sided bang and back-slicked hair cocks his head. “Oh, he’s not picky as long as it’s hot and spicy. I’ll be hot and you’ll be spicy.”

They both laugh.

Lance feels something cold running down his spine as he reaches for the keypad to switch the picture on the monitor above him to the outdoor cameras. There it is. Keith’s car. The quality of the camera is utter shit but he recognizes the person sitting in the front passenger seat and his stomach drops uncomfortably.

“I better ask him before he’s all moody and shit again.”

The one Lance thinks has to be James walks up to the sliding door which opens automatically at his approach and motions for his boyfriend to come inside. It’s not until he shouts loudly and almost aggressively to _move his ass_ that the car door opens.

Lance holds his breath when Keith appears in the shop. He doesn’t look in Lance’s direction but joins James and the other guy. They talk flavors and Lance uses the time to stare at the one he’s got to know in the last weeks, the one he calls his friend, the one he holds hand with and shares a blanket watching sunrises. Keith wears a black snug shirt with a low neckline, a thin and short gray jacket, and a tight pair of ripped jeans. Even though the outfit accentuates his fit body in the best way the only thing Lance wants is to wrap him into a warm blanket. He must be freezing cold.

James and the other one whose name seems to be Ethan get themselves soft drinks from the soda fountains, making a mess Lance will have to clean up later.

He doesn’t care.

Keith eyes his boyfriend wearily before he takes a few steps into Lance’s direction. He crosses his arms in front of his abdomen in a way that screams self-protection and gives Lance a barely noticeable wave with his hand. It’s all grin and bear but Lance doesn’t want to cause him any trouble so he keeps his distance and settles for a smile.

“Hey babe, I forgot my money,” James says and keeps mixing different drinks together.

Keith nods and steps in front of the counter. He puts the bags of chips on it and motions with his head to the guys at the soda fountain.

“The chips and two large sodas,” he says, his gaze lowered on the wallet in his hands.

“We have a special offer in the morning hours. Two donuts and two hot coffees.”

Keith looks up. His cheeks have turned a light shade of pink. Lance could only imagine how embarrassed he has to feel right now which only adds to his own discomfort.

“For free,” he adds quietly.

“I don’t think so.” His voice is low and sounds broken.

James appears behind him and drops his head on Keith’s shoulder, wrapping his arms firmly around his body, planting a wet kiss on his neck. He shoots a glance at Lance who has opened the cash register to retrieve the change.

“And that’s 8 dollars back,” Lance says without commenting on James’ behavior, his eyes fixed on Keith’s. Their fingers brush briefly when Keith takes the bills and both of them tense up. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Keith replies before James puts a heavy arm around Keith’s shoulder and the three of them leave the store without looking back, not even Keith.

Lance can't help himself but to look back at the monitor. James stops Keith from opening the passenger door by pressing him against it and goes in for a long and needy kiss. Keith’s hands dart up to James’ chest but he doesn’t push him away.

Lance switches the camera back to an indoor camera and clenches his fists. He feels sick and he can’t even imagine how Keith must feel.

~~

Keith doesn’t visit the gas station in the following six days. Only when the tank of his car is almost empty he stops by, hoping the machine accepts his credit card by now.

It doesn’t.

He could’ve easily gone to another filling station but he doesn’t want to. He tells himself he’s too proud to be ashamed of his relationship with James, as unusual it might appear to outsiders. He doesn’t care what others think, least of them a night-shift cashier in the middle of nowhere. When he makes his way towards the shop’s door he sees Lance through the window and stops dead in his tracks.

This can’t be.

Anger rushes through his body and it takes him all the strength to wait until the current customer leaves. The bell rings and Keith walks straight up to the counter, all concerns for Lance’s opinion about his relationship with James pushed aside.

“Fell down the stairs again, huh?” Keith shouts at him. He isn’t sure if he feels defensive because Lance has seen him at his lowest point or offensive because he doesn't understand why Lance keeps lying at him about the bruises on his body he tries to cover up all the time. Probably both. Lance shrinks visibly under Keith’s angry stare and aggressive voice. “Or wait,” Keith continues and puts a finger on his chin, “was it the same table you bumped into last week? No, hang on, last week’s menu said _fingers caught in a door by a ghost._ ” He runs his hand through his hair and shifts his weight to his other leg. “You must be the most clumsy person I know.” The sarcasm in his voice bites hard.

Lance’s mouth gapes open but it only takes him a few seconds to counter. His fingers briefly touch the large black bruise that spreads between his right eye and brow and he flinches as his body remembers the moment when his father’s fist had connected with his face. It was an accident, he had assured him in tears when Lance got down to his knees.

“It was an accident,” Lance repeats to Keith who is still shaking his head in anger. “Fancy seeing you here though,” he continues before Keith can say something else, “thought you were off to get married in Vegas with your boyfriend.” He pauses and folds his arms across his chest. “Or is it _boyfriends_? I didn’t quite catch the whole dynamic you’ve got going on with all the PDA.”

“Fuck you.”

Without so much as a backward glance Keith turns on his heel and leaves. He hates Lance, he tells himself. And he hates himself for having opened up to him, for getting attached to him, for allowing him to become part of his safe places.

Keith sighs.

For _becoming_ his safe place.

What they have is good. It is intimate in a way he didn't know was possible without sharing body liquids. The driving, the talks, the cuddles in the back of his car, the hand holding, the feeling of safety and companionship.

Keith slams his hand on the steering wheel. And then Lance ruins everything by getting beat up in his face, something Keith can't overlook anymore. The real world has find its way into the paradise they started building together but which ended up as fragile as a card house. He drives around the bump on the road, his stomach and heart already distressed enough. It took him almost a week to gather enough courage to face Lance again, hoping his friend might have forgotten about James and the way he treats him, and now nothing would be the same anymore.

He’s close to the hill outside town when he realizes that he hasn’t even paid for the gas.

Fuck.

~~

Lance is in the back of the store to get new paper cups, sugar packages and creamers to refill the coffee area when he hears the bell ringing.

“Coming,” he shouts and walks back with his arms full of supplies.

Keith is leaning with his back against the counter, arms crossed and brows furrowed, when Lance lays eyes on him.

“I forgot to pay for the gas,” Keith says slowly as if it’s difficult to keep a calm voice.

Lance makes no move to walk up behind the counter but starts refilling the compartments next to the coffee machine.

“Cash or card?” he asks without looking at him.

“Card.”

He takes his time to finish his task before he lets Keith pay. The silence between them is suffocating and they both know that they have to talk about it or they'll lose each other forever. Lance gives himself a nudge and starts.

“You had no right to--” He exhales and leans on the counter, head hanging low. “I thought we weren’t doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Judging the lives we live. Telling us the things we already know.”

Keith presses his lips together and softly shakes his head. “That was before he hit you in your face. You could’ve been blind. Or worse.”

“It wasn’t the first time.”

Keith’s eyes burn into Lance and he puts his hand next to him on the counter. “And that’s why it’s even worse. I should’ve said something as soon as I realized that--” He stops, visibly angry at himself. “That it was that bad.” He closes his eyes, his voice only a whisper. "But then again I already knew but didn't want to see. I'm sorry."

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” Lance scolds and straightens himself.

“No, you’re a friend who gets beat up by his drunk father and all I ever did was counting your wounds and praying they'd heal fast.”

Lance's fingers cling to the rim of the counter as he stomps his foot, angry at Keith for saying it out loud, but also glad that he did.

“And I should’ve talked to you about James but I was too chicken,” he says with almost clenched teeth.

“He never hit me.”

“I saw how he treated you with my own eyes and yet you’re still defending him.” Lance stares at him in exasperation, his hands raised at him with palms up. "I know you do that to protect yourself but--"

“I don’t have scars like you," Keith says roughly.

“Maybe not on your body. Although I doubt it.”

Keith scoffs and averts his gaze. As hurtful as the situation is, nobody moves away. Lance’s face softens and he tries to relax.

“Can I come over to you?” he asks and points around the counter.

Keith eyes him briefly and nods. “Yeah.”

“And you won’t run away again?” Lance asks but is already leaving the area behind the counter to walk up to him.

“Someone once said that running away from one’s problems is a race not to be won.”

“Not if you forget to pay for gas first," Lance jokes before he becomes serious and steps closer to Keith. "Listen, whoever said that has never shared his home with a drunk father.” He raises an eyebrow like a warning about what he is about to say next. “Or an abusive boyfriend.”

Keith looks away and Lance leaves him be for the moment he needs to sink deeper into his hoodie. When Keith looks back at him, their eyes meet as if they're seeing each other for the first time, acknowleding the lost and broken souls they are. Their long eye contact brings back the tension between them.

“I want to be honest with you so I’m just gonna say it.” Lance takes a deep breath and steps closer. “I feel something for you. You’re the first friend I have in years and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Move on as you did before?” Keith immediately responses.

“That’s exactly what I fear." Lance pauses for a moment, giving Keith time to get accustomed to this topic. "See, the time we spend together...makes me feel like I am more than all that.” He waves his hand to the counter and coffee machines. “Waking up just to go to work, to feed my father, to keep myself alive. I starting _drawing_ again, Keith. I haven’t done this in months and now I find myself waking up and thinking about taking courses. I _want_ things now, Keith.”

“Which means?” Keith whispers.

Lance takes a deep breath. "I want to leave this town and this life behind me.”

Keith shakes his head and presses a hand against his temple with a bitter smile on his face.

“This isn't so simple,” he says with closed eyes as if he speaks from experience, “building a new life somewhere else. You have no idea what it's like to be alone in a new town without anything you can hold onto. What loneliness can make you do."

"We wouldn't be alone though," Lance says and steps towards him until they are close. “Anyplace is better than here and I have nothing to lose. We're still young, we have our whole life ahead of us. We can find a place to start over, a place to heal, somewhere far away. All we have to do is to stop being afraid."

Lance offers him his hand. Keith stares at him.

“You want me to come with you?” he breathes.

"Yes. Start over with me. Let's drive to the places we've seen from up the hill, let's become one of the lights on the horizon." His eyes glance at his empty hand. His mouth is dry and he doesn't think he has a regular heartbeat for the last few minutes but he ignores it all. "I want all these things, Keith, and if I can add one more thing to this list, it's you." He looks up into Keith's purple eyes. "I want _you_ to be in my future."

Keith opens his mouth but no sound escapes. Slowly he touches Lance's palm with his fingertips. It's not an answer yet.

“Tell me one more thing," he asks. "What is this between us?”

“Whatever you want it to be. At this point all I know is that it's something good we have and that you're important to me.”

Keith smiles but turns down his gaze.

“It's more than good to me. But I don’t want to spoil things between us. If there's something else you want from me and I might not be able to give you that...”

“I'm happy with what we already have. Just you by my side is enough. You are enough. But it's your choice, Keith, it's always your choice."

Lance feels Keith's fingers interwinding with his until they're firmly interlocked. Their eyes meet. They're both scared and excited, the air pumping fast in their chests at the prospect of the decision they are about to make.

“I don’t have any money, Lance," Keith says with a hitched breath. "Just my car.”

“Then that’s enough," Lance counters quickly, "I have some money." He grabs Keith's other hand, too. "I need one week to sort things out and to get my last paycheck. What do you say?”

Keith pulls him closer, closer than they've ever been. They're face to face and Lance watches Keith's purple eyes flickering over his face, scanning every inch from his eyes to his nose and down to his lips.

"I'm scared, Lance. What if it doesn't work out?"

“I’m not talking about eloping into a sunset and into a happy end,” Lance whispers breathlessly when Keith tilts his head and brings their faces closer together. Their noses almost touch. “We both don’t know what we want in our lives," Lance continues quietly, his eyes fixed on Keith's lips, "not really at least, the only thing we know for sure is that we can’t live like this any longer.”

“No flowers, no fireworks."

“Promised. Just you, me and your car.”

Keith leans forward. He gently nudges his nose against Lance's. They are so close now Lance feels Keith's lips forming words against his own and he breaths in the little huffs of hot breath.

"Bring your sketchbook."

Before Lance is able to answer, Keith tilts his head again and the next thing he feels is his stomach dropping to his feet when Keith softly presses his lips against Lance's. And then he's kissing him back, trying to hold back but Keith pulls him closer until their chests touch. He brings their holding hands behind his own back, wrapping Lance's arms around his waist without giving up control of their positon and Lance lets him. It's only when he feels Keith's tongue softly touching his lips that he leans back, eyes still closed but his mouth eagerly inhaling air.

"You don't have to do this," Lance says out of breath.

"I know," Keith says and brings their foreheads together. "But for once in my life I trust myself that I know what I want."

~~

Lance sits down next to his father. A rerun of a football game is on TV.

“Larry will come by in a few days,” he says.

“Larry? Haven’t heard from him in months, that old bastard.”

“He was your best friend." Lance pauses. "He will bring you some groceries.”

His father turns around and stares at him.

“Wha--”

“I have to leave for a while,” Lance interrupts him before he changes his mind. The look in his father’s eyes makes his body switch into flight-mode but he stays put. “And I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

He can’t hug him but he needs a physical goodbye so he briefly rests his hand on his father’s arm before he gets up. His father doesn’t seem to understand but he will, Lance thinks.

“Are you leaving me just like your mother?”

“No,” Lance says. “Mom left both of us without giving a damn, without saying goodbye.” His father is still staring at him, the game’s commentary only white noise in the background. “There are 20 dollars on the kitchen table. That’s all I can spare for the next days. I gave Larry the car keys and some more money to buy food and...whatever you need. Bills are paid for the next two months. I made a folder with all the insurance documents and other paperwork you might need. So this is me giving a damn and saying goodbye.”

The extent of his son’s words begins to sink in and he tries to get up but falls back into the worn down couch, stammering and mumbling through his confusion.

“How dare you," he grunts angrily, "I am not a child!”

“I know,” Lance says. “But I was.”

He doesn’t look back when he takes his rucksack and leaves the house he grew up in.

~~

Keith stares at his sleeping boyfriend next to him, remembering the good times they had together. Their first kiss, first time, the exciting nights they spent in the clubs, always in action, too much in such a short amount of time until Keith couldn’t keep up anymore and James started to drag him along.

He doesn’t know if James has always been like this, if he has changed over time or if Keith is the one to blame for the constant fear, anxiety, and jumpiness he feels whenever they’re together. Deep down he already knows the answer but it will take time to accept that everything that has happened to him wasn't his fault. Carefully not to wake him up Keith let his fingers run through the hair of the man he once loved. A part of him still does.

 _Goodbye_ , he mouths in silence and kisses him lightly on his forehead. He knows he shouldn't do that but he needs it. It wasn't all bad, he thinks. James shifts in his sleep and rolls over, facing the wall. Keith closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and counts to ten in his head.

Then he gets up and starts packing his duffle bag. With every noise he accidentally makes he startles, his eyes darting back to James, afraid he might have woken up. Keith is lucky. He gives James a last glance before he steps out of the bedroom. He looks peaceful, Keith thinks. He leaves a hasty note and pins it on the fridge.

_The bad times outweigh the good times we once had. Goodbye. - Keith_

~~

Keith is leaning against his car when Lance exists the backdoor with his last paycheck in one hand, a cardboard box with two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag in the other. His rucksack is swung around his shoulder.

“You came,” Lance states surprised when he sees his friend wearing the black hoodie and the maroon-colored scarf and his face relaxes in relief.

Keith pushes himself back from the car and folds his arms. “Of course,” he says with a warm smile, his hands hidden deep in the pockets of his hoodie. Lance nods at the food in his hand.

“I got coffee and pretzels.”

“For free?”

“It was meant as a goodbye gift. I say it’s more of a new beginning gift.”

For a moment they just stare at each other, memorizing this life-changing moment that starts with the two of them in the parking lot of the gas station on a cold winter day. It is a place for leaving and not for staying so that’s what they do. They get into the car and Keith starts the engine. Warm air fills the interior of the car.

“Ready?”

“Leave today or live and die this way,” Lance says and takes Keith's hand that is resting on the gear shift. 

They both look back to the place they met many weeks ago. The blue neon light of the canopy doesn’t look that cold anymore, Lance thinks, but it might be because Keith is sitting next to him. Keith who knows leaving is hard but has learned that sometimes staying is even harder. Lance has never left a place before but knows about the struggles of staying if it's the wrong place.

The sun is about to rise in a few minutes. They look at each other, knowing neither of them will be alone on this trip into the unknown as long as they have each other. Keith drives the car up to the street and gently squeezes Lance's hand.

“Left or right?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Alex for providing me this prompt and song :) and thanks to everyone for reading this little thing. I usually write longer fics so it was a challenge for me to write such a short AU fic. I hope it made you feel something and you're able to like it a bit it despite the awful topics.
> 
> If you're feeling down I'm gonna link my favorite Klance artist [Sunny (Ikimaru)](http://ikimaru.tumblr.com/tagged/klance) here cause they're amazing and I'm a fan and scrolling through their Klance tag always cheers me up.  
> Also, I wanna apologize for making James an asshole.
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/worstmission) and [Tumblr](http://worstmissionever.tumblr.com/). Even if it appears that I'm inactive, I check in daily. Mostly I'm just really busy writing fanfiction, lol.


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